


Slaves to the Wolves

by Darkriver



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Anal Sex, Big Gay Sex, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-02-25 11:43:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2620508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkriver/pseuds/Darkriver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world much like ours, only slightly different, werewolves are dominant. Humans were enslaved (but in a nice way :) ) Pack Lord Derek Hale is in charge of the entire west coast of North America. Scott and Stiles, best friends since they were wee, now thieves and trouble-makers, sneak into the Citadel, Derek's seat of power, with the intention of sneaking off with valuables. Things go slightly askew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thieves in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> This story didn't work out. I'm leaving it up for now.
> 
> Re: the Dubious Consent tag. After a lot of thinking about how I wanted to proceed, I decided it was only fair to add the tag. I'm working very hard to keep this from being a dark fic, but it must be acknowledged that with slavery, no matter what, consent becomes iffy.

The Citadel was a massive fortress. It served as the seat of power over the western territory, it housed hundreds of courtiers, soldiers, dignitaries and, naturally, slaves. As one might expect, it wasn't precisely the best place for two rogue humans to wander into. That was the thought that Scott simply couldn't keep out of his mind.

"Did you hear something?" Stiles asked in an urgent whisper.

Scott cringed. He was sure that at any moment, they were going to be caught. "For the tenth time, no."

"Keep your voice down!" Stiles hissed.

Scott shook his head in annoyance as they skulked down a darkened hallway. "You've had some truly awful ideas in the past," he told his friend. "This is the worst."

"For the last time, we need the coin for the resistance. And I felt you roll your eyes just then."

"I'm only saying that Danny, you, me and Greenburg are hardly a 'resistance.' Danny is only a part of it because he's friends with us. He's pretty happy with his owner. And I'm not sure Greenburg even knows he's _in_ the resistance."

Stiles stopped and turned on him, the fire of the freedom fighter in his eyes. "Of course it's small right now. That's what we need the money for."

Scott let out a long-suffering sigh. "There are other places we can rob, is all I'm saying. Places less filled with people who will kill us if they find us."

Stiles got that crafty smile on his face that worried Scott so much. "Yes, but the Citadel will have maps of the whole western territory. We'll need one to find a secure place to start our base of operations."

Scott wondered sometimes why he didn't just tell Stiles this was all an insane notion that they should give up on. They were practically brothers and so Scott would always go along to protect Stiles, but these adventures just got riskier all the time. Sooner or later, their luck had to run out.

As two runaway slaves, living on the margins, stealing to survive, they were already pushing their luck. Werewolves ruled, humans were slaves and Scott didn't see anything aside from some sort of divine miracle changing that. Yet Stiles couldn't seem to keep himself from seeking out trouble.

Scott changed tactics. "Do you even know where you're going?"

"Of course," Stiles said, moving down the corridor again. "Sort of. I got some information. It might not be reliable."

Scott smiled to himself and followed along. His life might be less stressful without his danger-prone friend, but it would be incredibly boring too. So he followed along and kept his eyes and ears open for any sign that they were about to be killed.

A half an hour later, they passed a statue that Scott was quite sure he'd seen before. He stopped and sighed. "We're going in circles."

"We are not."

"We've already passed this statue once."

"Maybe it just looks the same...."

"Stiles!"

"Shhh!"

Scott shook his head. "All right, let's find a way out."

"But—"

"We can come back tomorrow," Scott said. He hoped he would be able to talk Stiles out of that, but for now, the priority was getting out with their skins intact. "Who knows when the servants will be up? We need to get out before we're spotted."

Stiles looked around manically for a moment. "Just let me see if I can find this one door the guy talked about. If I can't spot it hereabouts, then we'll go. All right?"

Scott knew he should have said "No" but of course he said, "Fine."

Stiles flashed a smile at him and then padded off down a side passage. Scott was about to follow when he noticed a shadow moving among shadows to his right. Thinking it was a servant, or worse, a guard, Scott ducked behind the statue and hid and tried to think of some way to safely and silently signal Stiles.

But the shadowy figure was creeping down the corridors just as Scott and Stiles were, which suggested he wasn't supposed to be there either. Then Scott spotted a knife in the figure's hand and he knew the man was there for something evil.

Scott glanced in the direction Stiles had gone. He wanted to find his friend and force him to get out of the Citadel immediately. If someone was going to be murdered, then they wanted to be far away when it was discovered so they weren't suspects.

Yet something in Scott made him instead slip out of his hiding place and, as quietly as he could, follow in the shadowy figure's path. Even as his instincts screamed at him to run away as fast as his legs would carry him, he kept moving, his heart in his throat.

The figure opened a door at the end of the hall, and the light beyond revealed the figure to be a cloaked and ragged individual. Scott had never seen anyone who looked so bedraggled. Even Stiles and himself didn't need to wear clothes so poorly patched and threadbare.

Intensely curious who it could be, Scott padded after the suspicious stranger as soon as they slipped into the room. In seconds, he was peering through the crack left in the unclosed door. The room was a huge bathing chamber, the likes of which Scott had never seen. There was only one occupant in the bath, and he appeared to be half-dozing with his head resting back on the ledge.

Scott's worst fears were confirmed as he saw the knife-wielding stranger creeping towards the person in the bath with clear purpose. Scott didn't think, he just acted. He shoved his way into the room and ran for the man with the knife. "Look out!" burst from his lips.

The man in the bath was instantly out on the ledge in a crouch. Water sluiced off his muscled, naked form. His eyes glowed a ferocious red, which told Scott that this was an alpha, which meant he was going to be in a great deal of trouble very soon.

He was so distracted by who had lunged out of the bath that he lost track of the assassin and in the next second he felt a sharp, hideous pain in his chest as claws ripped him open. He stumbled backwards and fell, stunned, to the tiled floor.

He watched as the Alpha grabbed the assassin's knife-wielding arm. There was a loud crack that echoed in the room and the assassin screamed and dropped his weapon.

"Paralyzing wolfsbane on that knife Peter? You never did believe in playing fair. The furious Alpha then grabbed the assassin by the throat and lifted him off his feet. "You've gotten much better at masking your scent. I wouldn't have even known you were there if not for the slave."

The man choked and gurgled. He managed to get out, "To hell with you, Derek."

"I was generous before, Peter. Because of mother, I banished you. But apparently that was a mistake. But don't worry, I'm not going to kill you. I'll just have to find a nice dark hole to throw you into."

Guards finally arrived, their chainmail jangling as they marched into the bathing chamber. They looked only briefly at Scott and then knelt before their lord. Scott blinked a few times, trying to comprehend that he was actually looking at the Pack Lord.

"Take this traitor to the dungeon and keep him there until I decide what to do with him."

"Yes, lord," one of the guards said.

They grabbed the assassin and hauled him, kicking and snarling, out of the room. And just then, Stiles burst in, quite out of breath. "Scott! What the hell happened?" He threw a fierce glare up at Lord Derek, who was watching them with mild curiosity. "What did you do? You didn't have to rip his guts out for fuck's sake!"

"I didn't do anything."

Stiles knelt next to Scott and frantically checked him over. "Oh, no, it was the fanged monster to your _left_ that ripped my friend open. Of course."

Scott managed to fight off the haze dragging him down to what seemed like a really pleasant blackness. He didn't want Stiles to say something stupid that would get them in any deeper. Though, knowing Stiles as he did, that seemed inevitable.

"Wasn't him," he rasped.

"See?" Lord Derek said.

"He's delirious and probably terrified of you eating him or something," Stiles snapped. "He'd say anything. Fuck, look at all the blood! I thought a flogging was the worst a runaway slave could face."

"You're not wearing collars," Lord Derek said, as if realizing it only now.

"Obviously," Stiles said, uselessly placing his hands on Scott's chest to stem the crimson flood. "Wait, what? You didn't know? Um.... Well, we're not runaway slaves.... We're.... Oh fuck it. Scott, stay with me!"

Scott smiled dreamily up at his friend. "It's all right, Stiles. I'm...."

Scott didn't really understand why the lights from the lanterns were flickering out. It couldn't be a breeze, there were no windows. Though, thinking on it, he did actually feel a little chill.

_Oh, crap, I'm gonna die._

"Out of the way," Lord Derek said.

Stiles shook his head, his eyes glistening with tears. "No. No, I'm not letting him.... He's my best.... He's my brother, damn it, and he may not be anything to you, but to me he's—"

"Out of the way!" Derek roared and Stiles was effortlessly shoved aside.

Scott looked up at the fearsome Pack Lord and was amazed at the depths of compassion he saw there. He figured the werewolf was going to put him out of his misery, which was a kind thing to do, but Scott didn't think it was necessary. His fingers and toes were already numb. It seemed like it wouldn't be long.

Scott barely felt the pinch of the teeth at his shoulder. And then all he knew was darkness.


	2. Before the Pack Lord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles meets Lord Derek. Things go downhill quickly.

"Where's Scott?" Stiles demanded.

Lord Derek folded his arms and gave him a hard look. "He's with the Druid right now."

"I want to see him."

"He's unconscious. "

"I still want to see him."

"You will, but not now," Derek said with a bit of an edge in his voice.

Stiles gave him a sullen glower. "Fine." He looked around the large den he had been forcibly escorted to and then back at the Pack Lord. He was far too worried about Scott to even care about being caught. He couldn't even really be scared of the imposing, scruffy Alpha who was probably deciding how best to punish him.

"Is he going to be all right?"

Derek stared at him for a moment, as if utterly baffled by Stiles. "You do know you're a slave, right?"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, I'm just a lowly human and you're a mighty lycanthrope. I get it. I just don't really care right now because my friend could be dying and you won't let me _see_ him."

"The druid is doing everything he can. You'd just be in the way. "

"Oh, sorry my concern for my _best friend_ in the whole world bothers you."

Derek blinked a few times. "What's your name?

"Do slaves get to have names?" Derek's responding growl had Stiles taking a step back. "Stiles! My name is Stiles. Down boy."

Derek scratched the stubble on his jaw. "How long have you been on the run, Stiles?"

"What the fuck does that matter?"

Derek's eyes narrowed. "I want to know."

Stiles shrugged. "Since I was a kid. My parents.... My parents were killed when I was eight. Since then, I've been on my own."

Derek frowned and Stiles was confused that the Pack Lord seemed to even care. As far as he knew, wolves didn't care about the problems of humans. Well, at least that was what he had assumed based on a few things he had seen and heard.

"Killed by what? Trolls?"

"Of course not. Trolls are cowards. They wouldn't go near a whole village because the werewolves would rip them to shreds. No, we got raided by a pack from across the border."

Derek grimaced. "Which village do you come from? Yreka? Medford?"

"Medford...." Stiles frowned at him. "How would you know?"

"Deucalion is the Pack Lord over the Albertana territory. He's been causing trouble for his neighbors for a while now. I led my mother's armies against that raiding party. I visited the two villages they razed." He shook his head. "I'm sorry about your family."

Stiles hadn't expected that, but he wasn't ready to surrender his grudge yet. "They died in a stupid fight between werewolves. We had nothing to do with whatever grudge this duke person has with you."

"Deucalion."

"Whatever. Humans shouldn't have been involved."

Derek studied him for a moment. "Are you.... Are you Stilinski? The one who wrote the 'Freedom Now Manifesto'?"

Stiles actually smiled. "You read my manifesto?"

"The anti-werewolf diatribe calling for humans to take up arms and throw off their masters? The one my advisors call 'high treason'?"

Stiles swallowed hard. "Er...."

Derek chuckled softly. "I've read it. It was full of absurd generalities, unsupported theories and gross historical ignorance, but otherwise it was interesting. I like how you called me a 'four-legged fascist with the brains of a turnip.'"

"Um, that's out of context. And I think I said 'carrot.'"

Derek shook his head, still smiling. "What were you doing here? You obviously weren't here to kill me, since your friend stopped Peter from doing just that. So, what? Hoping to get some slaves to join your cause, start a revolt right inside the Citadel?"

"No...." Stiles looked down at his feet. "Look, if you're going to kill me, then just kill me, all right? I can do without being mocked."

"Kill you?"

"Isn't that what high treason leads to?"

Derek thought that over. "Well, I suppose. But then, I make the decisions here and I don't think you're quite the threat my advisors would believe."

"More mocking...."

"Well, I am a fascist...."

Stiles stifled laughter. He refused to admit the Wolf Lord could in any way be charming. "So, then what?"

"I don't actually know for sure." Derek shrugged. "As a runaway slave, you are supposed to be flogged in the public square, but I don't really want to do that."

"You don't?"

"No."

Stiles folded his arms. "Why not?"

"Because you helped to save my life."

"How'd I do that? You never actually told me what happened. I just came upon my friend bleeding to death."

_And you being insufferably hot and all naked and wet._

"My crazy uncle never forgave me for being granted the title of Alpha and Pack Lord. He tried to kill me before and I banished him. That apparently wasn't enough of a hint to him so he snuck in and tried to kill me. You and Scott surprised him and I was able to stop him."

"But I didn't really do anything." Stiles reminded his mouth to check with his brain before speaking as it was clear that saving Derek's life was the only thing keeping him from being tied to the whipping post. "I mean, I would have...."

Derek shrugged and looked away. "Well, close enough. Your friend likely wouldn't have been here if you hadn't been."

Stiles could tell the big Alpha was being evasive. He just couldn't figure out why. But then he had to remind himself that he had no reason to care. Derek represented everything he despised. Stiles wasn't going to let himself forget that. No matter how absurdly attractive the man was with his stubble and those intense eyes that bore right through him.

"Is that why you bit Scott? Because he saved you?"

Derek nodded. "Normally, a human would have to work for years to earn the gift."

Stiles narrowed his eyes at the word "gift." It was as if werewolves just couldn't imagine that it was perfectly fine to just be human. "Don't humans sometimes die if they're bitten?"

"Sometimes. There wasn't any choice, though, since he was nearly dead already." Derek furrowed his brow. "The druid, Deacon, thinks he'll be all right, which is sort of a miracle. Biting someone that close to death is dangerous."

"What if Scott didn't want to be a werewolf?"

Derek blinked a few times. "Why wouldn't he?"

Stiles threw up his hands in disgust. "All you werewolves and your superiority complex. We humans do pretty good ourselves, you know."

Derek cocked his head to one side. "I meant, if I didn't make him a werewolf, he'd be dead."

"Oh."

"You're kind of adorable when you're self-righteous."

Stiles glowered at him. "Well, thank you for that." He looked around. "So, what happens to me?"

"You mean, am I going to let you go because your friend saved my life and you were remotely involved?"

"Well.... Yes."

"I can't do that."

"Can't or won't?"

"All right, won't."

Stiles had to give him points for honesty. "Fine."

"Hmm.... That sounded a lot like 'as soon as I'm sure Scott is safe, I'm going to run away.'"

Stiles tried to remember if mind-reading was an Alpha power. Not that he really knew anything about Alphas or their powers. Derek was the only one he had ever met and he wasn't even like the werewolves Stiles had known. He was unexpectedly intelligent and patient and there was a compassion behind those intense eyes of his that Stiles didn't know what to make of.

"So, what? I'm going to get auctioned off at the block?"

Derek snorted laughter. "No. You're far too disrespectful. You'd end up getting yourself beaten just to prove how terrible werewolves are."

"Why do you care?"

"Who says I do?"

"Well, you just said you aren't going to let that happen to me."

Derek looked away. "I suppose I did." He glared at Stiles, who flinched. He had no idea why the Alpha was mad at him. Well, in truth, it was more like he wasn't sure which of the many, many reasons Derek would have to choose from for being mad at him that he had settled on. "You're really obnoxious, you know?"

"Um.... All right."

"But I sort of like that you speak your mind. I get really tired of the sycophants always saying what they think I want to hear. The only person I can rely on to tell me the truth is my sister and she's not around very much these days."

Stiles eyed him uncertainly. "So, you want to hire me as Chief Royal Insulter or something? Keep me around to deflate your ego?"

Derek actually laughed and Stiles (against his better judgment) decided he liked the sound. "I do, actually, need a personal servant."

"Isn't this whole fucking castle filled with your servants?"

Derek scratched the back of his neck, which was a strangely adorable gesture. "If we're being technical, every slave in my territory belongs first to me. But that's more of a tradition than something I really pay any attention to."

"All right...."

"What I don't have is a personal slave. My mother always pushed me to get one, but honestly after a day of political duties, I just wanted to be alone. I sort of prefer to be alone, generally. People tend to get on my nerves because they always seem to want something. Which is sort of why I like you because you don't want anything but to be let go."

Stiles blinked a few times. The Pack Lord was rambling, like he was actually nervous, which of course made absolutely no sense. For all that Stiles fancied himself as the leader of the Great Human Uprising, he knew he was roughly as intimidating as a newborn kitten. What could Lord Derek possibly be nervous about?

"So, what, I'd do your washing, clean your room, that sort of thing?"

Derek glanced at him and then quickly looked away. "Other servants tend to those things. You'd be more for other things."

"What other things?"

"Bathing me, for example."

"You can't bathe yourself?"

Derek gave him a weird look. His eyes were narrowed but his lips were quirked in a very unnerving sort of smirk. "All right, you'd be my sex slave. Clear enough?"

Stiles repeated that sentence a few times in his head and tried to figure out some way that it meant something other than what he thought it meant. However, as agile of a mind as he had and as educated as he was (for a runaway slave) he simply couldn't figure out some way for those words to translate into something else.

"But.... You.... I mean...."

_Get it together Stiles!_ he thought to himself.

_But he wants to fuck me!_ he thought right back.

"Er.... I mean, that's um, flattering? Yes, flattering, but there have to be slaves who would be better looking, I mean better at that than I would...."

Derek flashed his teeth. "You are a very attractive young man, Stiles."

"All right.... Thanks? Um.... What if I say no?"

"You're a slave. You aren't allowed to say no."

Stiles swallowed hard. "What if I say no anyway?"

"Then I'd have to spank you."

Stiles let out a little whimper. "Um.... Well, all right, what if, after I'm done crying, I say no again?"

Derek laughed, which Stiles felt was very insulting but also very likely appropriate. The idea that he could prevent Derek from doing anything and everything to his body that he wanted was really very laughable. Still, that didn't mean that petulant objections were off the table.

"Stiles, I know you don't know many werewolves. But we have a really good sense of smell. I can tell you're attracted to me just as I can tell you started leaking precome as soon as I said the words 'sex slave.'"

Stiles coughed uncomfortably. He really didn't see how it was any of Derek's business what he may or may not be leaking and it certainly wasn't something he wanted to discuss. "So?"

"So, why exactly are you trying to pretend this isn't what you want?"

"Because I don't!" Stiles insisted. Derek's point was really hard to refute, but for the sake of his anal integrity, he had to try. "Yes, you're very attractive and everything and sure, having sex with you sort of maybe sounds like the best idea in the world to me, but that's only because I'm hard and I can't think clearly. You're everything I resent in this world. I don't want my first time to be with some arrogant Alpha who gets to have me just because he owns everything."

"Your first time?"

"Well...."

Derek laughed a little. "How about we make a deal, then?"

"A deal?"

"Yes. You convince me that I'm wrong and that humans really should be set free and I'll close my eyes and pretend you got away while I was asleep."

"And if I don't convince you?"

"Then I get to relieve you of your virginity in every filthy way I can imagine."

Stiles narrowed his eyes. "And you're the one who gets to decide if my arguments are valid? How is that fair?"

"Whoever said anything about fair?"

Stiles failed to stifle his laughter that time. "Good point." He eyed Derek's smirking face with an exasperated expression. "How is this any different than you just ripping my clothes off and shoving that dick of yours inside me?"

Derek considered it. "I'm giving you a way to tell yourself that you only surrendered after giving it a very honorable effort." He shrugged. "And you might convince me. Who knows? I just hope you don't because I really want to fuck you."

"I still say that makes no sense, but all right."

Stiles knew it was futile. He knew that no matter what he said, he was going to be quite properly fucked by the horny Alpha. He was only delaying the inevitable. Yet delaying was in and of itself a victory. He was letting Derek know that unlike every other human, he was not going to just bend over and take it. He had pride. He had dignity.

_For now_ , he thought.

Stiles gathered his arguments in his head. Years of ranting about the unfairness of the world, of how wrong it was to own humans, of the injustice of inequality, it spilled out of him. He was actually quite proud of himself that he managed to hold his head high and articulate his points coherently given the stakes he was playing for.

Derek, to his surprise, actually seemed to listen to him. He was leering, of course, which was unfairly distracting, but he did seem to be paying attention.

"Interesting," the Alpha said when he finished. "So, where would humans live once I freed them?"

"Well, we'd need communities, obviously."

"So, I would need to give you land, too. And how would you support yourselves?"

"We work all over your territory. The only change would be you would have to pay us."

"I see. And this benefits us how?"

Stiles felt his temper rising again. "Equality benefits everyone. A free human populace would be able to develop our own culture, bring about advances that maybe you perfect little lupines hadn't come up with."

Derek shook his head. "History tells a different story. Werewolves didn't 'betray' humans like you seem to think. Where did you get that idea, anyway?"

"I came across a book...."

"Well, it's wrong. Werewolves always protected humanity from the monsters that roam the world. My people fought and died to keep yours safe from marauding Wendigo tribes that saw you as a food source and bands of trolls that just like killing. What did humans do with that security? They turned on each other."

Stiles frowned at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Humans killed each other by the thousands. For land, for resources, even sometimes just for fun. It was awful."

"That's.... That can't be true."

"I'll take you to the ruins of Yuma sometime. Humans nearly exterminated themselves. You see, werewolves think in terms of pack. What we do we do for the good of our packmates. Humans tend to be selfish and think of only what benefits them. In the end, the Alphas decided that the only way to save humanity was to just take them over."

"Slavery was the only option? Really?"

"We tried a less complete form of subjugation, but it only resulted in more violence. So, yes, slavery has been the only solution that worked. I'm sure some of the abuses you talked about happen, but we do our best to treat you well. I've heard that in some territories, families are broken up with children sold off at a young age, but most packs don't allow that. We understand the importance of family. And we see humans as people, even if they're not equal to us. That's why we allow humans who prove themselves to become pack."

Stiles shook his head. "Why didn't you just change everyone into werewolves?"

"Like you said, not everyone survives. And basically, that would have meant the end of humans and we didn't see that as our right."

Stiles made a grunting noise as he thought that over. It certainly added new dimensions to his understanding of wolf-slave relations. "Werewolves fight each other too."

Derek made a face. "Rarely, but yes. Every so often, an Alpha like Deucalion ascends who thinks there should be one Alpha over all others. He's crazy, though, and has some very dangerous ideas that cannot be allowed."

"Such as?"

"We, the other Pack Lords and I, suspect he secretly wants to wipe out humans."

Stiles swallowed hard. "Why?"

"A human crippled him. It drove him crazy. He hasn't done anything that lets us prove what he's plotting, but it definitely has us concerned. And so you can see, we don't really fight amongst ourselves and if we do, there has to be a pretty important reason." Derek shrugged. "But mostly, we care more about our packs and seeing to our own needs."

"What difference is there between having one overlord Alpha and having a Pack Lord who's in charge of other Alphas?"

"Familiarity, basically. I know every square mile of my territory from Baja up to Vancouver. My Alphas can come to me to settle territorial disputes knowing I know what I'm talking about. There is just no way any one person could rule everything."

"Why would they want to, then?"

"Honestly? I have no idea. Most of the time, I wish my territory was smaller, not larger."

"Really?"

Derek nodded and shrugged. "Though I'll deny that if you tell anyone."

"And spank me for revealing royal confidences?" Stiles said with a smirk.

"Yes," Derek said, and the look in his eyes had Stiles shivering.

Stiles looked down at his boots. This was definitely not how he would have expected his first meeting with werewolf royalty to go. Derek was nothing like he had thought; a power-loving tyrant who didn't know or care about the troubles of his people. That information was going to take Stiles a while to digest.

He managed a little smile. "So, is that it? Am I free now?"

Derek laughed and shook his head. "No, but it was a really good effort."

Stiles sighed and nodded. "Thanks for letting me try." He offered the Alpha a shy smile. "I still don't know why you're putting up with all my disrespect. It can't just be because you want to fuck me because no one could be that desperate."

Derek shrugged. "As I said, your honesty is a nice change of pace for me." His watchful eyes studied Stiles for a moment. "Do you still want to say no?"

"I.... I guess not. I mean...." Stiles realized this was about the only power he had left, to accept his situation with some measure of dignity. He drew himself up and looked at Derek. He could feel his cheeks burning, but he couldn't do anything about that. "No, I don't want to say no."

Derek smiled in relief. "That's good. Now, first things first...."

He went over to box a servant had delivered shortly after Stiles had been brought in. Stiles knew what had to be in that box. He knew why Derek was now opening it and removing its contents. His eyes locked on the slave collar as the Alpha turned to him. Children didn't wear them. It was deemed impractical as kids were forever growing and very little was expected of a human child anyway until they came of age. So Stiles had never worn a collar before.

He started to shake all over as Derek brought it closer. The bantering with Derek, the weird and unexpected flirtations, the heated arguments, they had allowed him to not think about what really was about to happen. His freedom, such as it was, was about to come to an end.

Stiles didn't want to seem like a coward. Nor did he want Derek to think that he was so pathetic that he would go to pieces at the sight of a slave collar. But sometimes his mind betrayed him and he descended into a spiral of panic in spite of himself.

_Stop it, stop it, STOP IT!_ he screamed at himself in his head.

But he couldn't and then he was having trouble even breathing. Derek took him by the shoulders and looked worriedly into his eyes. "Stiles?"

"I'm all right," he lied.

"You're not. What's going on?"

"'s fine. P-Put the c-c-collar on."

Instead of doing that, though, Derek just wrapped him in a firm and protective hug. Stiles felt like the worst sort of idiot. An unbelievably attractive guy who actually listened to him who also happened to be the most powerful werewolf in hundreds of miles wanted to have sex with him and the only small caveat was Stiles had to be his slave and he was having a complete breakdown.

"Breathe with me," Derek said into his ear. "In and out, nice and easy."

Stiles shook his head. He didn't want to be comforted like some sort of ridiculous child. "I'm f-fine. Just give me a moment."

"Stiles, breathe."

For some reason, that order pierced through the chaos in his head, like Derek's commands simply couldn't be disobeyed. Stiles made himself focus on the rise and fall of Derek's chest against his and then, once he had something to think about other than his idiocy, he was able to start mimicking the Alpha's slow and steady breaths. Little by little, the panic subsided.

"All right.... I'm all right... Sex can happen...."

Derek shook his head. "Not tonight."

"But...."

"Not tonight."

Stiles sagged against him. His first task as a slave and he'd completely failed. That was a blow to his ego he didn't need. He clung to Derek and tried to think of some way to make things right. Because anti-slavery sentiments aside, Stiles knew that his only chance for survival was with a master who had Derek's level of patience. Anyone else and Stiles knew he'd spend all of his time tied to the whipping post.

He sank to his knees before the Alpha and hung his head. He wanted to beg and plead, but he didn't dare open his mouth. He was certain that if he did, something far less appropriate would come out than the obsequious begging that was needed. So he just silently showed his utter surrender and told those remaining flutters of panic in his stomach to leave him in peace.

"Well, that position gives me ideas," Derek said.

Stiles nodded numbly. "Anything."

Derek knelt down in front of him and tilted Stiles' face up so their eyes met. "I was kidding."

Stiles swallowed hard and informed his eyes that if they let loose with the tears that were threatening then he would carve them out with a rusty spoon. "Don't you.... Don't you want me anymore?"

"Stiles...." Derek stroked his cheek with one thumb. "I'm tired, honestly. I'd rather just go to bed."

Stiles sensed he was lying which he added to the list of things about the Alpha that made no sense. "Should I go, then? Where should I go? Where—"

"You're sleeping with me," Derek said.

Stiles stared at him. "With...?"

"Yes. You don't have to wear the collar—tonight anyway—but you don't get to have clothes either. Can you handle that?"

Stiles licked his lips. "Why are you being nice to me?"

"Because I like you."

"All right.... You realize that means you're totally insane, right?"

"Yes, well, I've been called worse. 'Fascist' comes to mind."

Stiles let out a giggle. "Well...." He knew it wasn't exactly proper sex slave etiquette, but he figured here at the beginning he could claim ignorance of protocol and so he leaned in and gave Derek a little affectionate kiss. "I suppose I'll just call you Master from now on."

Derek's eyes lit up. "You can call me Derek...."

"Thank you, Master," Stiles said. He rather enjoyed the way that word seemed to spark something inside the Alpha. "I'll keep that in mind."

Derek looked into his eyes with a fondness Stiles could hardly explain. Then the Alpha stood, bringing Stiles up with him. He set about removing Stiles' clothing, in the most expedient manner available. Stiles didn't protest as claws shredded the material away from his body. When he was, at last, naked before the powerfully built man, he couldn't help but make an effort to cover himself.

"None of that," Derek growled.

Stiles blushed furiously and made himself drop his hands to his sides. He really couldn't figure out why the Alpha wanted him, but the hungry look in Derek's eyes left no doubt. The man who literally could have any slave he wanted and likely just about any werewolf too had chosen him. It was completely absurd.

Stiles swallowed hard and looked down at the discarded slave collar. Why had it set off such a reaction in him? It was just a strip of leather, after all. If he wore it or not made no difference. He was a slave now. He belonged to Derek. So why not just put the damn thing on?

The flutters of panic in his stomach didn't agree, however. The very notion of being collared made his stomach clench. In defiance of those feelings, he knelt down and captured the collar in his teeth. Then he knelt before Derek and looked up at him with what he hoped was an expression of apologetic surrender.

"Are you certain? It's not worth another fit, Stiles. You'll have to wear one eventually...."

He stopped as Stiles leaned in to offer the collar. He wasn't entirely sure, no. There were several warring factions in his head, led by Pride and assisted by Panic. But he refused to give in to them. There was nowhere to run and no way out. He was a slave, just like all humans. Inexplicably, a very kind and patient werewolf was willing to put up with him.

This was, as much as anything could be, his choice.

Derek took the collar from him and had him stand. Slowly and carefully to be sure Stiles wasn't going to collapse in tears again, Derek slipped the leather around the young man's neck. Stiles trembled, but he didn't come undone. Even when he heard the lock click , sealing the collar around his neck, he stood still.

"All right?" Derek asked.

Stiles nodded, ducking his head to hide the tears that, in spite of his dire threats, were trying to get loose. Derek led him into the bed chamber and stripped off the robe he'd been wearing. Stiles hadn't really paid much attention to the man in the bathing chamber, what with Scott dying and everything. So this was really his first actual look at Derek and he was, in a word, awed.

"How does that thing fit in your trousers?" Stiles asked.

Derek laughed softly and pulled him into bed. Stiles almost expected the man to fuck him in spite of him saying he wouldn't. It was pretty clear from a glance at his dick that he wanted to. But he just curled up with Stiles' back held to his chest and breathed a long, slow sigh of contentment.

_My life makes no sense at all,_ thought Stiles.

And while it took him some time to drift off, when he did, he felt a lot safer than he had in a very, very long time.


	3. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles wakes up to his new life and discovers that he can't handle it as well as he thought.

When Stiles woke, the first thought that went through his head was, "Why is some guy holding me in a death grip?"

Derek Hale was, against all reason, a cuddler. His arm around Stiles' midsection left absolutely no means of escape. It was like Stiles was some big teddy bear or something. Naturally, the feeling of being trapped meant Stiles' first instinct was to run away as fast as he possibly could. His second instinct, though, told him he couldn't possibly get away and that waking Derek was not very likely in his ass's best interest.

Because as hard as that dick was that was pressed against his backside, there was no doubt last night's reprieve would not be extended. When Derek woke up, he was going to get on top of Stiles and use him for his lust—which sounded way hotter in his head than it should.

_"You're a slave. You don't get to say no."_

Derek's words from last night haunted him. That was the very core of his situation, He was a slave, Derek's slave, and any chance to refuse had been surrendered the night before. Even knowing all that, even knowing he had basically offered his body to Derek, he couldn't help feel a little queasy knowing that he was now just a toy to service the Pack Lord's needs.

Derek's intake of breath told him that the man was awake. Stiles knew it was childish, but he pretended to be asleep, like he was hiding from the monster under the bed or something. He just didn't know what to do or say.

"Morning Derek. Might I offer you a blow job?"

Or, "How'd you sleep? And where's the lube?"

No, Stiles had absolutely no idea how to handle the situation. He just told himself that there was no good reason to throw a tantrum and so, when Derek rolled him onto his stomach for some Alpha-style fucking, he was just going to have to grit his teeth and take it.

Derek kissed his shoulder. _Oh shit!_ And then he murmured in Stiles' ear, "What are you in the mood for?" _Is he serious?!_ "I keep some bread and fruit in here, but if you want a hot breakfast, we'll need to go down to the dining hall."

_...breakfast?_

"Um...."

"I could use some bacon, myself."

"Bacon?" Stiles stomach growled. "I could stand to eat some bacon."

"Well, then, let's go."

Derek rolled out of the bed and went to the window where he stretched languorously. Stiles watched, because for some reason, he couldn't _not_ watch. Derek pulled the curtain aside so the sunlight poured in, illuminating his impossibly attractive form. Stiles had never in his life seen a firmer ass. The man was all muscle.

As Derek got dressed, Stiles slid out of bed and padded over to where his clothes were, which was when he remembered that Derek had shredded them. He picked up a remnant of his trousers and sighed. There wasn't enough left to cover him.

"What am I— Ermf!"

Stiles caught the tunic that was hurled at him only after it collided with his face.

"Wear that."

Stiles held up the tunic dubiously. "You could fit two of me in this thing."

"Well, until we get you some clothes, that will have to do."

Stiles gave him a skeptical look and then pulled the tunic over his head. As he had predicted, it fit like a tent. One end of the collar slid off his shoulder and the hem hung down nearly to his knees. He looked rather totally ridiculous.

"Come on, food awaits," said Derek, heading out of the room.

Stiles managed to grab his belt before he had to rush after to avoid being left behind. He followed along behind Derek through the Citadel, his eyes going everywhere at once. In the dark, it had all seemed very foreboding, but with the light of day it was actually fascinating. Tapestries lined the walls, depicting various times in history. There were paintings as well, all picturing dour-faced werewolves that Stiles assumed were Derek's forebears.

The dining hall he was led to was bigger than most of the houses Stiles had burgled. Four huge tables surrounded a massive fire pit. There weren't many people in there, a few servants and members of Derek's court. All eyes turned to him and so, naturally, to Stiles.

The young man gulped, keenly aware what they were seeing. Derek Hale arriving, fresh from sleep, with a slave in tow—a slave wearing one of Derek's tunics. Self-consciously, feeling eyes on him, he pulled the collar so as to cover the bare shoulder, which was utterly useless as that just caused the shirt to slid off of the other one.

_They all think he's fucking me. They know what I am...._

Stiles started to back up. "On second thought, I'm not hungry."

"Don't be ridiculous. Lydia, get some bacon from the kitchens, would you?"

A servant girl with fiery red hair murmured "right away, m'lord," and scurried off.

Derek took his place in the center of one of the tables. Stiles uneasily slid into the chair next to him, his eyes a little wild. He saw people's eyes widen and there were murmurs, which he took to mean he had done something wrong. He looked to Derek, who was eyeing him in confusion, like he couldn't believe Stiles had made such a stupid mistake.

"What did I do....?"

"You, um.... The table is for werewolves, Stiles."

Stiles gave him a helpless look. "Then where am I...?"

His words trailed off as he realized where he, of course, belonged. He looked down at the immaculately clean cobble stone floor and felt his heart sink. Of course. He was a slave. He wasn't equal to Derek. He shouldn't think he was for even a second. He belonged on the floor, like a pet.

"I think I need to go back to the room and throw up. Pardon me, _Master_."

Stiles would have preferred to leave slowly and with his head held high, but his courage simply failed him. So he fled, racing out of the hall with murmurs (and laughter, he was sure he heard laughter) filling the air behind him.

Sometimes, a person just needed a good cry. So that's what he did. He curled up in Derek's bed and let himself sob his eyes out. It was just too much. Scott's injury, the collar, knowing he was now little more than a plaything for Derek, which even though he was gorgeous and far nicer than Stiles would have expected was still a serious blow to his pride.

Derek came in a few minutes later. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the inevitable, "Why are you being such a baby?" which would of course be followed by, "You're not worth this much trouble."

What he wasn't expecting was to hear, "So, I'm an idiot."

Stiles sniffled and gave him a teary-eyed look. "Wha...?"

"I just thought I should tell you that." Derek looked sad instead of annoyed. "I brought bacon and toast. I'll just leave them here and you can eat them—or not—when you want."

Stiles watched in bafflement as Derek placed the food on a table and turned to leave. Stiles had expected a scolding at the very least and a spanking at the worst. Instead, Derek was slinking towards the door like he didn't want to intrude.

Just as the man reached the door, Stiles found his voice. "Don't go."

Derek paused and glanced over his shoulder. "Are you sure?"

Stiles stood up and wiped his eyes and nodded. "I'm sorry."

Derek shook his head and came a few steps closer. "No, I should have realized. You've been running free a long time. Bringing you into the hall like that.... I didn't think."

Stiles' shoulders sagged. "I could feel them all staring at me, laughing at me behind my back."

"Oh Stiles...." Derek shook his head. "For one, anyone that made fun of you in my presence would suffer for it." Stiles blinked at the intensity of that promise. "Secondly, they weren't staring at you because they were looking down on you. They were jealous."

Stiles' eyes narrowed. "Oh, they wanted to be a slave sitting at your feet?"

Derek looked down at the carpet like he was suddenly intensely interested in the pattern of it. "I shouldn't have.... I didn't think.... I've never had a personal servant."

"Sex slave."

Derek frowned at him. "You're angry with me again."

Stiles sniffled. "No, I.... Well...." He sighed. "I know in my head, you're being nicer to me than probably anyone would in your position. But it's hard for me to forget the whole 'you're a slave, you don't get to say no' part of things."

"That's what's got you upset?" Derek looked distinctly uncomfortable. "I thought we were playing."

"Playing?"

Derek folded his arms and shrugged. "You were being very confusing, acting like you didn't want to but being really turned on by the idea. I thought you were just being coy." He sighed. "But I'm not going to force you to do something you don't want to do."

"I'm a slave, what difference does it make what I want?"

Derek's gentle expression stiffened into a mask of annoyance. "Is that what you think of me? That I just do whatever I want to whoever I want?"

"Well, what's to stop you?"

"The fact that I'm not a rapist comes to mind."

Stiles flinched as he realized what he had really been accusing him of. But he wasn't willing to back down. "But slaves can't say no, so...."

"Stiles, this may come as a thundering shock to your ego, but werewolves don't really _want_ to bed humans, for the most part."

"Why's that?"

"Because you're fragile. Because mating is a very serious thing with wolves. And because we're not as evil as you think we are."

"I didn't say you were evil." Stiles didn't know how he had wound up on the defensive, but he didn't like it. "But when you have absolute power over someone...."

"Slaves can report abuse and when they do, action is taken."

Stiles frowned. "Really?"

"Yes, really."

"But who would someone report your abuse to? You're the highest authority in the land."

He really hadn't meant it to come out that way. He was honestly just trying to wrap his head around all these rules he had never heard of. And when he did that, he liked to look at things from all angles. Unfortunately, sometimes that led to him saying dumb things.

Derek stiffened. "I'll put you to work in the kitchens or something." He turned to leave. "Enjoy your breakfast."

"Where are you going?" Stiles asked.

Derek shrugged. "I have some negotiations I have to deal with."

Stiles frowned at him. Though it seemed wildly improbable, the man seemed to have some hurt feelings. Stiles felt horribly guilty, because he hadn't meant to do that. Derek had been far nicer to him than was warranted. In point of fact, if Derek were human there would be no question at all. It was just the fact that he was one of the ruling class that really bothered Stiles.

"I didn't mean to say...."

"It seems like you did."

"I know, that was stupid. I'm sorry. I don't really think you're like that. If you were, I wouldn't be a virgin anymore."

Derek turned back and eyed him cautiously. "I wouldn't hurt you."

"I'm pretty sure spankings qualify as 'hurt'."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Fine. I wouldn't hurt you unless you needed to be punished."

Stiles didn't like the sound of that. He was pretty sure he was going to need to be punished a lot, at least as far as Derek was concerned. His mind, as it tended to do, changed directions as something else that Derek has said struck him as significant.

"If wolves don't generally bed humans than why am I here?"

Derek chuckled. "Because I think you're incredibly attractive and interesting, even if you can be quite frustrating."

Stiles shook his head, not believing that for a moment. "This is because I wrote that manifesto, isn't it? You like the idea of making someone like me your plaything."

Derek eyed him for a moment. "You really can't accept that I just like you, can you?"

Stiles blinked a few times, and then a few more times. "Huh?"

Derek stepped over to him, crowding into Stiles' personal space. "That's what all this is about, then. You can't accept that I want you so you have to keep coming up with things to explain it."

"That's.... That's not even the point."

Derek's eyes captured his. "I want you. You want me. Everything else is crap, Stiles."

Stiles wondered if it really was that simple and it was just his overly-active brain making it unnecessarily complicated. It wouldn't be the first time he had done that. It was hard to think, though, with Derek so close, with his heat and his scent enveloping Stiles.

Nervous and uncertain, he took a step back. "What did you mean before when you said they were jealous?"

Derek shrugged. "It's not important."

"Tell me anyway."

Derek sighed. "Most of them have been trying to find a way into my bed for a long time because they think that doing that will gain them something. It's really quite disgusting."

Stiles made a face. "It sounds like it."

"Anyway, they see that I now have a companion and they are jealous because of the power they know you have."

"Power? What kind of crazy talk is that?"

"You have access to me and therefore you can influence me so they figure you will be taking bids and seeing who can make the sweetest offer for your pleading their case."

Stiles gaped at him. "I would never sell access to you."

Derek looked tired. "Don't make that promise so soon. In a few months, you could have the whole court offering you any number of things." He shrugged. "It's the way things work."

Stiles felt repulsed by the very idea. "That won't ever happen." The whole idea made him angry. "I may be your whore, but I can't be bought like that."

"And why would that be bad? I am a fascist, after all."

Stiles didn't smile at the joke. He wasn't in the mood. "Is that the sort of person you think _I_ am?"

"I don't know you well enough to say, but weren't you just talking about the way power corrupts?"

"Well, it won't."

Derek's eyes glittered briefly. "I hope that's true, Stiles. But I'll understand if you decide to take some offers. Just, please, be honest with me." He thought it over. "That is, if you still want to be my companion."

Stiles swallowed. "Can I think about it a little?"

Derek nodded. "That's fine. Now, I actually do need to go. I've asked for someone to bring you some proper clothes. Feel free to stay here, but you can also visit Scott, the servants will show you the way. And if you're bored, there's a library where you can read a different version of history than the one you made up."

Stiles smiled faintly. "Thank you, Derek."


	4. Stiles Has Lots of Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles goes to visit Scott and has a one-sided conversation with him.

After the man left, Stiles risked having some toast and that wakened his appetite, so he tore through everything Derek had brought as well as some of that fruit he had mentioned. Afterwards, feeling satisfied and a lot calmer, he got dressed in the clothes he was brought and went in search of Scott.

He was still uncomfortable being seen wandering the castle because he was just certain that people were gossiping about him and what Lord Derek might or might not be doing with him. It made him want to run and hide back in the room, but he had to see his friend.

He was directed to a room on one of the upper levels. Stiles slipped into the room and settled in the seat next to Scott's bed. He was glad that Derek had assured him Scott was recovering, because otherwise Stiles would have been certain Scott was nearing death. His friend was extremely pale and his breathing had a ragged quality that worried Stiles down to his bones.

"Hey there.... I don't think you can hear me. I just wanted to see how you are." Stiles looked around the small chamber Scott had been put in. It smelled of herbs, like mint and rosemary, which Stiles assumed had something to do with something the druid had done.

"That was a really brave thing you did. Stupid, really damn stupid, but brave. Would have been better if you'd just found me and gotten us out of there, but oh well...."

There was a thickness in his throat that made it hard to speak. He took one of Scott's hands in both of his and squeezed.

"I'm so sorry, Scott. So fucking sorry." Stiles sniffled. "You were only there because of me and I wouldn't listen and...." He wiped his eyes on his shoulder. "Please wake up. They tell me you'll be all right, but I'd feel a lot better if you opened your eyes and called me a moron."

Scott's fingers twitched in Stiles' hands. Stiles beamed and squeezed those fingers, hope kindling in his chest. But as the seconds ticked by, Scott's eyes remained closed. Stiles settled down, his expression now crestfallen.

"I really need you, Scott. I need someone to help me figure this whole mess out. There's this guy and he's really attractive and he wants me, but I'd just be his toy and I sort of think that might not be terrible but I sort of worry that it might be and I just don't know what to do." He sniffled a little. "I kind of want to run away, but I can't leave you here. So if you could just wake up...."

Stiles sighed at Scott's continued lack of consciousness. "So it's going to be like that, I guess. Fine." He heaved a sigh and looked away. "Derek is really nice. I mean, if I have to be in a collar, he is definitely who I would choose. And it beats working in the fields, right? I just.... I guess it makes me a whore and I'm not really sure if I can handle that."

He got up and paced back and forth. "I wonder what you'd think of me. But then, you're a werewolf now too so you'll probably not get why I'm having a problem either."

Stiles felt a silly little smile tugging at his lips. "He can be kind of adorable. It's like he really, really wants that pony but he doesn't know how to ask for it. Not that I'm saying I'm in any way a pony, mind, not like him.... I've never seen one as big as the one he's got and I suddenly realize if you were awake this is not a conversation you would want to be a part of."

Stiles threw himself back into the chair. "I think I'm going to say yes, Scott. I'm scared and worried and yet excited and I could really stand to hear you tell me it'll be fine but you can't because I nearly got you killed. Maybe it's good that I'm in a collar. Won't be as dangerous."

He patted his friend's chest. "That's all right, Scott. You just get some rest. And when you wake up, you'll have claws and fangs and glowing eyes. Won't that be fun?"

Stiles sat with Scott for hours, talking to him about their adventures and taking the opportunity to lie outrageously and take credit for things Scott had done. That didn't, unfortunately, goad Scott into waking up as he had hoped. But it passed the time. And it distracted him from his worry and his guilt.

When he left that evening, he didn't feel at all better. But he was grateful that Derek had let him see his friend. At least he could relax knowing Scott really was still alive. Stiles just wished that Scott would wake up so they could talk about the very peculiar turn their lives had taken.

Stiles returned to the room and was disappointed when he didn't find Derek there. He didn't really want to go wandering through the castle looking for the man, so he just curled up in a chair with some a book he found and waited.

The knock at the door sometime later surprised him. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to tell people who had come looking for Derek. Was he allowed to mention the trade negotiations that Derek was supposedly involved in?

When he opened the door, it was the servant, Lydia, whom he only remembered because he had never seen anyone with hair as red as hers. "Lord Derek asked that I make sure you got some dinner."

Stiles looked down at the tray which was loaded down with food. "That's.... Thank you."

"No need to thank me. It's my duty. We all have our duties, don't we?"

Stiles felt a blush overtake him. "Er...."

She eyed him steadily. "There's no shame in it. We're all just happy he's found someone—the servants are, I mean. You won't be getting any remarks from us."

Stiles swallowed hard and took the tray. "Thank you.... Um.... So, everyone does know, then?"

"Of course. Word in this castle travels faster than a rabbit running from a wolf."

Stiles looked down at his toes. "Wonderful. I'm the castle whore."

"You're Lord Derek's companion, and it's been a long time coming if you ask me. He's a good man, but he spends too much time alone. It's not good for him."

Stiles risked a glance at her face. Her eyes, which were quite striking, really, had no judgment in them. "Why...? I mean, why hasn't he had a companion already?"

"You'll have to be asking him that. All I can say is he's had a number of offers, from werewolves and from slaves bold enough to try. But he never said yes. I suspect because he knew for them it was about improving their lot in life."

Stiles eyed her for a moment, a slight smile on his face. "You weren't one of those slaves, were you?"

She rolled her eyes. "I would never be so crass. However, I will say that as handsome as the Pack Lord is, had he asked, I wouldn't have hesitated."

"Really?"

"Really. Now, will you be wanting anything else?"

Stiles shook his head. "Um... Will Lord Derek be joining me?"

"He didn't say anything about that, but if he does, I'll bring more from the kitchens."

She gave him a friendly sort of smile and left, leaving him feeling embarrassed and confused. Having it confirmed that he was the topic of gossip among the servants only heightened his anxiety. But he did appreciate that she had tried to make him feel better about it and he wondered if maybe she could be a good friend to have in the Citadel. She seemed to know what was going on and didn't mind sharing her wisdom.

After dinner, Stiles went back to his book, though his eyes were constantly moving to the door in anticipation of Derek's arrival. He wasn't yet sure what he was going to say to the man, how he was going to find some dignified way of saying he was all right with being a sex slave, but he figured he would make a go of it and Derek would likely be less interested in the words and more interested in the sex that they promised.

Hours later, he was startled from sleep by a gentle prodding on his shoulder. He jumped and looked around, disoriented. In the darkness, he saw Derek looking down at him with those eyes so full of mystery.

"Come to bed, Stiles."

Stiles was stiff all over from having fallen asleep in the chair and the crick in his neck was truly awful. He slowly untangled himself, joints popping as he got to his feet. "How late is it?"

"Passed midnight."

Stiles stifled a yawn. "Didn't mean to fall asleep."

"It's fine. But let's go to bed."

Stiles nodded groggily and followed Derek to the bedroom. His head felt like it was stuffed with wool, but slowly he was putting his thoughts back together. As he sleepily watched Derek undress for bed, he tried to think of some way to let Derek know that he had made his decision.

He undid the laces on his tunic. What had been circling his brain since dinner were the words of the servant girl, Lydia. While he still didn't like the idea that people were gossiping about him, what had really struck him was that she had said the servants were happy for Derek. That indicated he really was as decent as Stiles was suspecting. And that made the decision a lot easier.

Stiles looked away as he removed his trousers. "Well...." His voice was barely above a whisper. "I've decided to be your companion. I'm sorry if I've been difficult about it, but like you said, I never really was a slave. I've been on the run, living wild and free and I guess I'm having a tough time accepting that it's over. But I wanted you to know, it's nothing personal. You've been great. Actually, you've really made me wonder about a lot of things I was sure of. So, my being a little emotional wasn't about being _your_ sex slave, I guess is what I'm saying. Because, and I'll be honest, having sex with you is about half of what I think about now. It may take me some time to get used to it and I can't promise I won't have more little fits, but I'm going to try to be good. Does that sound all right?" Stiles bit his lower lip. "Derek?"

Soft snores reached his ears. Stiles muttered irritably. It had been a good speech. He had actually found the right words for once and his master hadn't even heard it. Stiles sighed and slipped under the covers with Derek while he entertained dark thoughts of how he was going to get the man back for dozing off on him.


	5. The Competition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Stiles adjusts to his new situation, another slave comes along to try and steal his place.

Stiles spent the next day exploring the Citadel, top to bottom. If asked, he would have said he was simply getting to know his new home. But secretly he was mapping out possible escape routes if things went very badly. It was becoming harder for him to imagine that Derek would turn into the vicious beast that Stiles had always thought werewolves were, but a lot of things were happening that Stiles hadn't expected. He always felt better when he had an escape plan.

He tried not to think that escaping would mean leaving Scott behind, because that would make the entire notion impossible to imagine. So he put a wall between thoughts of escape and thoughts of Scott as he wandered through the corridors, mentally noting interesting things like accessible windows and curtains that looked as if they could serve as something to climb down from a high place.

He found a lot of storage rooms, servants quarters, something that looked like a trophy room and an armory. To his surprise, no guards ever stopped him or questioned him. One even offered to unlock a door when he tried to open it. It was peculiar to him, the way these werewolves jumped to help him, as if they either respected him or feared he would tell Lord Derek they had been uncooperative.

He was about to sneak into the kitchens in search of a snack when Lydia's familiar voice caught his attention. "I don't see how it's any of your business, Jackson."

"You know I've been working for weeks to get Lord Derek's attention. And then this little bitch just walks in and gets my place. I'd just like to know what makes him so special."

Stiles paused to listen. Eavesdropping had always been a valuable way to gain information, and this was about his new owner and could very well provide some interesting details.

"Jackson, I've been telling you that you were never going to become Derek's companion slave. You're too eager. And I'm sure he can tell you only want to spread your legs for him so he'll make you a werewolf."

"And why is that so bad? I'm damn good in between the sheets."

"Yes, Jackson...."

"So, I give him everything he could ever want in the bedroom and eventually he makes me a werewolf as a reward."

"Maybe he wants more than a tumble," Lydia said with an icy tone in her voice.

"He's a werewolf. They're all horny as fuck. And Lord Derek doesn't even screw around, so he has to be all wound up. Why wouldn't he want a good— _really_ good— screw?"

"You've only been at the Citadel a few months, Jackson. You don't know Lord Derek at all."

"Fine, but you still haven't explained what this new slave has that I don't."

"He's genuine. He doesn't play games. I don't think he even knows how."

"Bullshit, everyone wants something."

"Not him." She sighed. "Why is becoming a werewolf so important to you?"

"How can you even ask that? They have all the power. I don't want to just be a slave my whole life."

"There are other ways to get the Gift, you know."

"Well, dancing and fucking are my two skills. So, no, for me there really isn't."

"Maybe you should focus on one of the other Alphas then."

"No. Being in the Pack Lord's pack automatically comes with its own status. I don't want to just be another werewolf in some pack out in the woods."

"Well, you may have to settle for that. I've never seen Lord Derek this happy, not since.... Well, anyway, he's happy. Just leave it be."

"Not a chance. I'm dancing tonight. I'll make him rethink his choices. Fuck, I don't care if he wants to keep the new slave, as long as he takes me on too."

"He's seen you dance before."

"Not solo."

"You're giving a solo performance?"

"That's right. And it's going to be one Derek won't ever forget."

Stiles blanched. He was so shocked by what he had heard that he almost didn't scurry into the shadows in time to avoid being run over by Jackson as the slave stormed out of the kitchen. Just looking at the man, Stiles felt his heart sink. Jackson was gorgeous, and apparently fearless. He was exactly the sort of slave Derek would want.

Which, once again, brought up the confounding question of why it was Stiles that Derek had decided to take as his companion.

What had Lydia said? " _I've never seen Lord Derek this happy, not since...."_

Since what? Stiles wondered. And why was Derek _un_ happy? He was powerful, young, unbearably handsome.... What did he have to complain about?

_And the fact that I care is something I will have to think about later._

Stiles was surprised how annoyed he was with Jackson. He shouldn't really care that the slave wanted to get into Derek's bed. That was between the Pack Lord and the absurdly handsome slave, after all. And if it happened that Jackson did supplant him as Derek's personal companion, would that be so bad?

_Yes. Yes, it would_ , he decided.

Jackson was exactly the sort of self-serving, ambitious person that Derek was so wary of. The idea that Jackson might deceive Derek with sexy promises and obscene pelvic gyrations was simply unacceptable. Derek didn't deserve to have someone play games with him, Stiles told himself. Especially if there was already some heartbreak in his past, as Lydia had alluded to. And so he resolved he would do whatever he had to in order to protect Derek from the scheming Jackson.

He would also work very hard to not think about why he felt he needed to protect Derek.

That evening, there was a banquet to commemorate the end of the trade talks Derek had been involved in. Derek asked Stiles to join him in the feasting hall. Stiles knew it would be filled with people, unlike the quiet morning meal. He didn't know if he could stand sitting on the floor like a pet as people smirked at him behind their hands. But he had to thwart Jackson somehow, so he agreed to go along.

The uncomfortable seating arrangement situation was settled by Derek simply seating Stiles on his lap. That was still sort of degrading, but it was much better than the floor. And it gave him a good view of the faces of the courtiers, guests and functionaries of the court—and it was impossible for even him to miss the looks of jealousy sent his way.

Beyond the strangeness of where he was sitting, beyond the incomprehensibility of the venomous looks he was getting from slaves and werewolves alike, there was the wholly unexpected fact that he felt rather safe so close to Derek. The arm loosely looped around his waist didn't confine him so much as it shielded him through the casual expression of ownership. Yes, he was Derek's and he was starting to see that to everyone in the Citadel, that was a place of honor instead of something to be ashamed of.

_Werewolves make no fucking sense at all._

"I hear you've been exploring the castle," Derek murmured into his ear as servants filled goblets with a strongly-scented wine.

"Was that okay?"

"Of course. This is your home, now."

Stiles swallowed hard. Was it his home now? It certainly beat the little shack he and Scott had in the woods. But the hideout was familiar and totally uncomplicated. The Citadel was a foreign place with murky politics and complex pack dynamics and stunningly gorgeous slaves plotting evil plots. Stiles didn't really feel like he belonged at all.

Not sure what to say about that topic, he instead asked, "So, how does this work? Do I feed you, do you feed me or do we feed ourselves like adults?"

He could feel Derek's toothy grin without having to see it. "Either, as you like."

As much as Stiles didn't like people telling him what to do, he would have preferred it if Derek had given him firmer directions. He was already lost at sea with so many important people around. And with Jackson one flirtatious look away from getting into Derek's bed, he couldn't afford to make a mistake.

Experimentally, he took one of the barely-cooked cutlets that had been placed on the plate before him and turned to offer it to his master. The little smile on Derek's face and the almost shy cast to his eyes was so endearing that Stiles found himself blushing.

Derek took the bite from him, his lips brushing Stiles' fingertips. Feeling pleased with himself, Stiles adjusted himself in his master's lap and tried to focus solely on Derek. That way, he didn't get to wonder what people were thinking of him.

That plan lasted only a few minutes, however. As everyone was tucking into their meals, the house seneschal, Jordan Parish, announced that Jackson would be entertaining them while they ate. And so Stiles' attention was wrenched away from Derek so he could see exactly what the scheming slave had in mind.

Jackson was holding nothing back. Besides his slave collar, he wore only a very spare red loincloth that covered absolutely nothing when he spun around. His smooth, muscled body glistened with oil. Stiles could practically hear the people at the table smacking their lips.

But Jackson's eyes remained locked on Lord Derek as he gyrated, twisted and leaped around like a nymph. Stiles squirmed miserably. Seeing his competition, he realized it was no competition at all. Jackson was gorgeous. He oozed sex with every move, seduced with every gesture. He knew exactly what to do where Stiles was completely clueless.

Stiles felt Derek harden against him and he sagged in defeat. There was no way Derek would not choose such a handsome (and clearly very flexible) slave who freely offered everything he had over his reluctant, plain slave who was prone to panicking at every little thing.

He had come to the dinner to fend off Jackson, but there had never been any contest.

Jackson finished his dance with an acrobatic flip and then came to rest with his legs splayed apart in a way Stiles thought seemed very painful, and the hall erupted in cheers and applause. Jackson grinned, soaking up the adulation, but his eyes were still locked on Derek, hungry and full of lewd promises.

"H-He's very, um, agile, isn't he?" Stiles asked.

Derek made a noncommittal noise behind him, which Stiles translated as, "I've found your replacement" that made Stiles surrender completely to despair.


	6. A Romantic Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Stiles talk things out some more and their relationship moves forward.

Before the servants had even started clearing the plates, Derek stood and led Stiles out of the feasting halls. Stiles followed Derek back to their room, his head down, his expression morose. He didn't know what to do or say. Should he make it easy for Derek and just say he understood he was being replaced? Or should he beg Derek for another chance?

Once inside the Pack Lord's room, Derek let out a low groan and rotated his neck to pop the joints in his neck. "Fuck, I'm glad that's over."

Stiles continued to study his toes.

"I swear, if that pompous jackass asked me one more—" Derek's rant stopped when he turned around. "Stiles, what's wrong?"

Stiles shrugged one shoulder. "Nothing."

"Stiles....."

"When does Jackson move in?"

Derek stared at him for a few heartbeats. "Huh?"

"You obviously liked him, and he clearly wants to be yours, so...."

"I wouldn't want that scheming little snake anywhere near me."

Stiles frowned at him. "What? But you were getting...." He blushed furiously. "I mean, I was sitting in your lap and...." He really had no idea how to finish that sentence.

Derek eyed him in confusion. "I am really confused by how you can be so smart and so dense at the same time."

Stiles' narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I was getting hard because of you, Stiles."

Stiles stared at him in bafflement. "Me?"

"Having you in my lap, so close, your scent right next to my nose.... It was driving me insane."

Stiles folded his arms and gave Derek a suspicious look. "And Jackson's little show had nothing to do with it?"

Derek considered that. "A little."

"See!"

Derek shook his head. "Not like how you think."

"Oh? Then how?"

Derek flashed his teeth. "I was imagining _you_ dancing like that."

Stiles was sure there was no part of him that wasn't blushing. "That.... That would be a frightening thing to see. I'd trip over my feet and fall into the fire pit."

Derek stepped over to him and laid his hands on Stiles' shoulders. "Why did the idea of being replaced upset you so much? I got the impression you were thinking of telling me you didn't want to be my companion."

Stiles leaned in against him, resting his head on Derek's chest and breathing in the strong, masculine scent of him. "I heard Jackson talking to another servant. He just wanted to get into your bed so you'd make him a werewolf. He.... He didn't care about you at all. And that.... That seemed wrong."

"That's very sweet of you to worry about me, Stiles."

Stiles swallowed hard. "Well.... I sort of like you. Like, a lot. And, um, stuff. So, uh, the idea of someone like Jackson using you like that...."

"I like you a lot too, Stiles."

Stiles shivered a little. "Do you?"

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"That a handsome, kind, patient guy who could literally have anyone he wanted actually wants me? Yeah, that's a little hard for me to process."

"Well, it's no more surprising than the idea that someone who hates werewolves would care about me."

Stiles grimaced. "I don't hate werewolves...." He shrugged. "I mean I can't, now that my best friend is one." He fidgeted. "I still think that slavery is wrong, but I'm glad to see that it's not as bad as I thought. It helps knowing someone like you is in charge of things."

Derek tipped his chin upward so he could look into his eyes. "Thank you."

Stiles gnawed on his lower lip for a moment before leaning up on the tips of his toes to lay a tentative, uncertain kiss upon Derek's lips. His master's arms tightened around him and Derek leaned in to deepen the kiss.

_I_ _want you. You want me. Everything else is crap._

Derek's words echoed in his head. Was everything really that simple? It would be nice if that were true, Stiles decided. All of the endless questions in his head, all of the worries and fears, they could all just be ignored. It would be nice for things to be quiet in his head for a little while.

And the way Derek was kissing him, it seemed possible that he just might be able to shut up the endless litany of anxieties echoing in his brain.

The kiss broke into mutual panting. Stiles pressed up against Derek, feeling the heat of his body, the tautness of his muscles. And, of course, he felt that _other_ thing that signified he had been neglecting his duties as a sex slave.

"What would my Master like me to do for him?"

Derek petted his hair. "Maybe you can dance for me?"

Stiles sighed. "Only if you really wish it, Master." There was a distinct throb in Derek's groin when he said that word. "But there are probably better ways your slave can serve you."

"That sounds promising." He stroked Stiles' cheek. "Are you certain?"

Stiles knew asking himself if he was certain would only lead to more chaos in his head so he decided to evade that topic. "I want to be yours. I want to make you happy."

"Are you saying you want to be my slave?"

Stiles at once balked and embraced that idea. He didn't think he should want to surrender to Derek, but the idea of not having to think, not having to choose, was enticing. "W-What w-would you have me d-do?"

Derek grinned a feral grin. "First, I'd strip you naked and take you to the bathing chamber for a nice soak. Then.... Well, then we'd have to see."

Stiles gaped at him. Walk naked in the halls? Was Derek out of his mind? Sure, he had seen slaves who were naked or almost naked in the halls of the Citadel, but to do that himself....

"It's all right, Stiles, I'm not going to—"

"I'll do it."

"Stiles?"

"I'll do it." Stiles started pulling off his tunic. He had no illusions about being as pleasant to look at as Jackson, but he was determined to prove he could be everything Derek wanted. "For you."

Derek cocked his head to the side and leered. "I'm not going to say no."

"Good." Stiles finished stripped and stood before his master with his arms uselessly trying to preserve his modesty. "Shall we?"

"Just one more thing. Don't want anyone to think you are running around, unclaimed."

With that, Derek attached a leash to Stiles' collar. Then he opened the door and led his slave into the corridor beyond. It took all of Stiles' willpower to take that first step. But he did and he was proud of himself for not dissolving into another panic attack.

Any hope that Derek use some secret, untraveled path to the bathing chamber crumbled as Derek led him at what seemed an unnecessarily leisurely pace through the corridors. Stiles didn't think there was a single patch of his skin that wasn't blushing as they passed guards, functionaries and other slaves. It was punishment, he knew, and the worst part was he was pretty sure he deserved it.

The real indignity came when Derek actually stopped to chat with some girl Stiles vaguely remembered seeing at dinner. She had the proud bearing of a werewolf, which made sense as she wasn't wearing a collar. She wore a rather severe bodice and trousers that fit impossibly well. Her brown hair was braided and tossed over one shoulder.

"So _this_ is why you snuck out so early," she said, smirking at Stiles, who was really hoping the earth would swallow him whole soon.

Derek wasn't even remotely embarrassed. In fact, his bright grin was a little too cheery for Stiles' liking. He was, apparently, _enjoying_ showing off his slave. Stiles made a mental note to see if there was any way he could possibly get Derek back later for the indignity.

_Just because he owns me and everything...._

"The celebrationwill go on for hours," Derek said. "There was no way I was staying for all of that."

"I don't blame you. I stayed as long as I could. But then that trader, Valorn, put his hand on my thigh and I figured you'd be angry if I killed him after all the time you spent negotiating with him, so I left instead."

Derek's smile faded. "He did what?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "I can take care of myself, brother."

Derek didn't seem entirely satisfied with that answer. "I may have to have a chat with him anyway."

"I handled it," she said fiercely. "Now, are you going to introduce me to the cute little toy you have or not?"

Derek smiled afresh and tugged on the leash, which was heaping way more humiliation on Stiles then he felt was fair. He shuffled forward and made a rather pointless attempt to cover himself and looked really hard at the floor.

"Stiles, this is my sister Cora. Don't worry, she doesn't bite. Well, not unless she's given permission."

_Very funny. So very charming. Can we go now?_

Cora stepped over to him and having her so close made him feel somehow even more vulnerable. He looked up when she tilted his chin upward and the appraising look in her eyes was neither complimentary nor in any way comforting. Stiles had the uncomfortable sense he was being judged.

"I am so glad you _finally_ picked a slave, brother. But why this one?"

"He has qualities."

"Hmmm.... If you say so." She smiled at Stiles in a way that seemed sweet but he was pretty sure was actually predatory. "You better be the very best slave you can possibly be to my brother. He can be such a sour wolf. He needs to get laid, properly and often. See to that and I may decide I like you."

Stiles had no idea if that would be a good or a bad thing. He stared at her helplessly.

"Did you cut out his tongue, brother? Because he'll have need of that."

"No, he's just terrified of you because you're a vicious she-wolf."

Cora feigned a pout. "And here I was behaving, too."

"Yes, well, so good to meet you. Shall we go?"

Stiles hadn't really meant to say that out loud. Somehow, things had gone very wrong inside his head and the words had found their way passed his lips. One look into Cora's eyes told him he was as doomed as one could ever possibly be.

Then her dire expression broke apart and she grinned. "He really is a mouthy brat," Cora said, giggling. "I can see why you like him."

_Wait, what_?

"I told you," Derek said. "Now, if you don't mind, I need to teach him about fifty-seven things he will need to know in order to be the good little sex slave he needs to be."

"Oh, very well.... If you get tired of him, though, I'll take him."

That idea was utterly terrifying. He couldn't even imagine the things a woman like Cora would make him do. And the suggestion that Derek might get bored with him at some point painted a very grim picture indeed.

"You wouldn't really give me to her, would you?" he asked in a very small voice.

Derek laughed. "Did she scare you that bad?"

"Yes," Stiles admitted without hesitation.

Derek paused and glanced over his shoulder, his eyes shining bright. "Stiles, you're mine and you're going to be mine for as long as I have anything to say about it."

Stiles blinked at him in shock, not sure what to make of that statement. He hadn't really thought about how long he would serve Derek, not before Cora had so terrifyingly brought the question into extreme relevance. But the way Derek seemed to want him, really want him, in a forever sense, was baffling and more than a bit flattering.

_Need to learn to be the best damn sex slave in the world so that doesn't change._

They finally, _finally_ made it to the bathing chamber which was, fortunately, empty. And while he hadn't paid it all that much attention the night of the attack, there was no mistaking that a number of things were different. For one, the lanterns on the wall had all been turned down and instead the room was lit by candles—a _lot_ of candles. Big fat ones sat on the tile floor, tall and slender ones were perched atop sconces and there were even some floating in the bath water. The scent of the room was rather overpowering, berries and roses Stiles thought. He gaped around him, so overwhelmed that he didn't even linger on the spot Scott had nearly died.

"This is my private bath. I had the servants prepare it."

Stiles stared around him. "Prepare it for....?"

"Us." Derek gave him a wink. "I've been planning this evening for a little while."

Stiles blushed. He was flattered that Derek would go to all this trouble—or, well, at least he ordered his servants to go to all the trouble. Clearly, Derek was trying to create a certain atmosphere, which meant that Stiles would likely let him off the hook for the torment with Cora.

Stiles gave him a little grin. "Are you sure it's big enough for the both of us?"

Derek laughed and shoved him into the water. Stiles flailed as he splashed into the unbelievably hot water. The bath was deep, so much so that when he got his feet under him his head barely poked out above the water. He watched Derek strip off with more than a little interest, noting that certain parts of him were displaying an affection for Stiles.

Derek dove into the water. When he came up, he barely took a breath before grabbing a hold of Stiles and kissing him so passionately that Stiles was utterly overwhelmed. There was a second tongue in his mouth, which was quite peculiar—though not actually unpleasant. And Derek's lips were moving like he was trying to devour Stiles (which Stiles hoped wasn't actually the case.) He let out a startled little "mmmmph!" and tried to figure out how to respond.

Derek didn't toss him aside for his incompetence, which Stiles was happy about since he really started to enjoy the kissing thing once he got over his shock. It created a very clear picture for him of what sex with the man would be like—fierce, aggressive and overwhelming. Stiles found himself clinging to Derek as the kiss deepened.

Derek's hand was at the back of his head, holding him steady, leaving him nowhere to go. Not that Stiles wanted to go anywhere. No, that wasn't even a question. He still couldn't figure out _why_ this was happening, what Derek saw in him, but he wasn't going to miss one glorious moment of it. Humming to himself, he started to find a rhythm, a way to swirl his tongue around Derek's in a fun little dance that made him tingle all over.

Time slid away. His world narrowed down to the joy of kissing Derek, the unexpected pleasure of being owned and the happy knowledge that this was only the beginning.

Slowly, Derek ended the kiss and pulled back so they were nose to nose. Stiles knew he was blushing but he made himself meet Derek's eyes anyway. The man's rugged, handsome face was split in a panting smile.

"You're a fast learner."

Stiles took that for the compliment it was meant and not an observation on how utterly clueless he was about all things sex-related. "Um...."

Derek was smirking that sexy smirk again. "How is it possible you're still a virgin?"

Stiles shrugged. "Well, it's hard to meet people when you're on the run from four-legged fascists."

Derek rumbled laughter. "You and Scott never did anything?"

Stiles made a face. "He's practically my brother."

"All right, it was just a question."

"Our friend, Danny, he offered once. But I had a bad feeling I'd embarrass myself and he'd make fun of me for it forever."

Derek caressed Stiles' shoulders. "I think it's really sexy that you're a virgin."

Stiles smiled shyly and said, in a rush, "You're the sexiest man I've ever met." He looked away, embarrassed by his boldness. "I, um, just thought you should know."

Derek's eyes lit up. "Thank you." He turned Stiles' face back so their eyes could meet again. "The truth is, I don't have a lot of experience myself."

"But...."

"As I said, I like to be alone. Or I did. Now I like being alone with you."

Stiles couldn't stop the silly grin from spreading over his face. He couldn't believe it, but the man was actually courting him. As if he needed to bother. It was impossibly sweet and endearing.

There was a tray floating in the water with sponges and soaps. He had been told this was one of his duties and at that moment, he thought now was a good time to get to it. He picked up the sponge and started to rub it gently over the Alpha's skin.

Derek's eyes, always keen and full of mystery, watched him. The smile on his face suggested he was happy Stiles was showing some initiative, but he didn't speak. He just let Stiles bathe him, which was the first time Stiles had ever had the chance to touch him in any real sense. He marveled at the man's powerful muscles. On a human, they would make him formidable. As a werewolf, Stiles could only guess how strong he was.

Stiles reached down with the sponge and scrubbed briefly over the man's crotch before skittishly moving back up to the man's chest. He didn't want to send the wrong signal and move things o the next stage yet. His courage was still building.

He moved around behind Derek and ran the sponge over his shoulders, over the strange tattoo on his shoulder and down his back. Stiles had never seen anyone so exquisitely built. It made him feel both wildly inadequate and immensely flattered to be the one Derek had picked.

"You said your mother wanted you to pick a slave," Stiles said to distract himself from the fact he was now running the sponge over Derek's muscled ass. "And your sister made it seem like she's been waiting for a while for you to take a slave for yourself." He bit his lower lip. "So.... Why haven't you?"

Derek shrugged his broad shoulders. "I told you, I'm a bit of a loner."

"Um.... All right. But, well, isn't a sex slave just, you know, something to take care of an itch?"

Derek canted his head back to eye him over one shoulder. "Is that what you think you are?"

Stiles groaned. "I really am awful at this. I told you...." He shook his head. "No, I mean, that's not what I was saying. I guess I was just asking why you didn't already have a slave to screw."

Derek sighed. "I've fucked a few slaves and a few wolves. Itch scratching, like you said. But in the end it's kind of empty. I didn't feel anything for them and they only did it because I was the Pack Lord."

_I really doubt that._

Stiles put the sponge aside and started to knead his shoulders. Danny was a master at massages, something he had demonstrated for Stiles once—which was the incident that led to Danny offering to fuck him. Stiles knew he could never hope to compare to Danny's practiced touch, but he at least had some idea what to do.

Derek's groan of approval was proof enough that he was doing all right. "May I ask you something else, Master?"

"As long as it doesn't involve those hands stopping."

Stiles grinned happily and kept working the taut and knotted muscles. "Well.... Um.... I've heard about how werewolves are.... Well.... Uh, horny."

"Yes?"

"And if it's been a while.... Uh, why have you waited? With me?"

Derek bowed his head and enjoyed the massage for a minute before responding. "Stiles, you drive me completely crazy with how much I want you. And you can bet your hands and _other_ things will be getting a lot of use. But I wanted your first time to be really good."

Stiles mulled that over. Derek really was a puzzle. But looking around at the elaborate set up, taking into account Derek's comments about his sex partners and his unbelievably chivalrous attitude towards Stiles' first time, and a picture started to form. "You're a romantic."

Derek grunted noncommittally.

Stiles leaned into his ear. "My Master is a romantic."

"If you tell anyone, your ass will be red for a week."

Stiles grinned and settled back, content with his discovery. "Well, maybe it's time I learned some of the rules."

"You obey me. That pretty well covers it."

"Yes, I got that much. But, for example, is this nudity thing going to be a habit?"

"Probably not. I'll let you wear clothes sometimes, depending on how naughty you've been."

"Well, given my track record to this point, I guess I'll have to get used to being naked a lot."

Derek laughed softly. "True. But you look fantastic naked."

Stiles chose to not point out how completely not true that was.

He considered it. "Respect is usually a rule, but that's clearly not a consideration."

Stiles chuckled. "Well, you did know what you were getting when you took me on as your fuck toy."

"Yes, I did."

Stiles worked on the knots in silence for a bit, mustering his courage. Derek was very easy to talk to, so easy that it was almost like they were becoming. Stiles knew he had to be careful about such thoughts, because they would probably wind up getting him hurt.

Stiles was blushing furiously, but he was also oddly comfortable here, naked with Derek. He was, as unwise as it sounded to him, starting to really like the man. "I'm not quite sure how to ask this next question."

Derek let out a blissful sigh. "Just ask."

Stiles worried at his lower lip. "I.... I mean, as far as sex.... I mean, I'm the slave...."

Derek was oddly quiet for a very long moment. "You are quite the slut, aren't you?"

Derek turned to face him, his eyes fiercely predatory. "Some masters don't want their slaves to do anything without being told. But I don't want you to just be some incredibly sexy marionette. You'll do what I say, but you don't need to ask permission if you're feeling in the mood. I'll tell you if it's not appropriate—as if that would ever happen."

Stiles looked at him through his lashes. "You're letting me have an awful lot of freedom, Master. It isn't because of that thing with the collar, is it?"

Derek shook his head. "No. It's because I like you the way you are and I don't want to force you to change." His slid away from Stiles. "I like knowing you're honest with me."

Stiles beamed at him. "You may end up regretting that. What did Cora call me? A brat?"

Derek shrugged one shoulder. "I think we can find other ways to occupy your mouth."

Stiles bit his lower lip. "Yes, Master."

Derek smiled at him and led him over to the edge of the bath. He climbed out onto the ledge and sat there, knees apart and prodigious erection jutting forth. Stiles eyed it in a mixture of trepidation and hunger.

"But now that you have driven me totally insane...."

"Yes, Master."

Stiles eyed the great big dick between Derek's legs with comically wide eyes. His brain, as was its habit, raced off in a thousand different directions along the lines of:

_This is so demeaning, being used as a sex slave._

_Though, honestly, it's sort of turning me on._

_Not that I like being a slave._

_Or slavery in general._

_But this isn't so bad._

_I can't believe I get to suck his cock!_

_He has to be the sexiest man alive._

_Why could he possibly want me?_

_I am going to be so bad at this._

_How can I possibly get that into my mouth?_

And so on went the endless chain of thoughts racing around inside his head.

Derek just watched him patiently as he edged ever nearer to the massive pole he was about to service. Stiles understood the basic mechanics of what he was expected to do. But as to how to do it properly so that Derek would be a happy Alpha who would never turn his slave over to some wicked person like Cora, well, that was a whole other question.

One thing Stiles wanted to make very clear, though, was that he was neither weak nor timid. So he leaned in and opened his mouth as wide as he could manage and took Derek's monster cock between his lips. The noise of startled surprise from his master morphed at the end into a gurgle of approval.

"Was.... Oh my.... Was going to start slow.... Do you have no gag reflex?"

Stiles couldn't really answer, what with all the dick in his throat. But he had never really had a gag reflex, which was something Danny had once told him would serve him well but never actually explained. Now Stiles got it. He hummed happily and nuzzled Derek's pubes.

Derek looked down at him in lust, his eyes afire with it. "My boy has natural talent." He played with Stile's messy hair and thrust a little between those lips.

Stiles glowed with happiness to hear the praise. There was also some weird thing where his stomach did happy somersaults when Derek called him his boy. It should have set him off, but instead he felt sort of like it was all right, as long as it was Derek.

He'd figured he would be awful at sucking cock, or at least not good enough to make Derek think this was a good idea. Tolerable had been his goal, but Derek was making the most sexy noises and that told Stiles that maybe he really did have some natural talent. He, of course, couldn't judge. All he knew was that bobbing up and down on the Alpha's cock felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Derek's thrusting grew more insistent, which turned Stiles on way more than he would have expected it to. Derek was fucking his mouth, using him, and Stiles was deliriously happy. He sucked as hard as he could, loving every sexy noise he could get out of Derek.

"Fuck.... You naughty thing.... You're going to make me come."

Stiles grinned around his mouthful. He apparently did have power in their relationship. He could drive Derek completely insane and make him come. That seemed like a pretty sweet victory right around then. Stiles slurped and sucked even more needfully, ready to taste Derek's seed.

In moments, it was filling his mouth, salty and musky and so very good. Stiles drank it down greedily, taking it as a reward for doing such a good job.

Derek petted his hair. "That was amazing, Stiles." His smirk was back, happy and hungry. "Thank you."

Stiles blushed as he savored his first taste of the gorgeous man. He was fairly certain no Alpha needed to thank his sex slave for anything, so he found Derek's unfiltered gratitude rather flattering. "I liked it." He licked his master's cock, which was slowly wilting. "Lots. You taste so good, Derek...."

Derek groaned. He pulled Stiles up out of the water and had him straddle his lap. Stiles smiled sweetly at him and leaned in for a kiss. Derek grabbed him and once again forcibly tangled their tongues together. Stiles was hard and excited and happy. Somehow, the anxiety he had felt about the whole sex-with-Derek thing just fell away.

The Alpha caressed him all over, strong hands gliding over his thighs, his hips, his back. The man's touch was covetous but surprisingly gentle. It made it so easy for Stiles to lean into that kiss, to let loose with his own needy noises, to beg silently for Derek to do whatever he wanted to him.

"How about we go back the room and we see how hard I can fuck you?" Derek asked.

Stiles licked his kiss-swollen lips. "Only if you promise to not hold back, Master."

Derek's eyes glittered. "You certain?"

"Yes," Stiles breathed out.


	7. Mating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles loses his virginity--like, a lot.

Stiles was effortlessly picked up and tossed over Derek's shoulder and then carried back to the Pack Lord's room. The fact that Derek didn't bother dressing was noted by Stiles, but he had other things to consider as he was tossed onto the bed by the horny Alpha.

"I want to tie you to the bed," Derek murmured, kissing a trail of kisses up Stiles' chest.

_He's worried about scaring me again._ Stiles was rather touched that Derek would worry about him, but he was definitely going to have to talk to him at some point about the panic problem. For the moment, though, serious discussions were of no interest to him.

"As my Master wishes," he purred in what he hoped was a sultry whisper.

Derek's eyes flashed and he reached over to the side table. He retrieved a pair of silk scarves which he used to tie Stiles' wrists to the headboard. Stiles tested the bonds and found he was completely secured and utterly helpless before Derek's lust.

In a possibly related situation, his dick was painfully hard and leaking.

Derek smiled at him and leaned in to give his shaft a rather long, sensuous lick that made Stiles shudder all over. The man was pure sin, with his devilish eyes and smirking lips. Stiles looked down at him and whimpered in lust.

"Can't wait to taste you."

Derek engulfed Stiles' cock and sucked him down to the root. Stiles gibbered in surprised pleasure. He had wondered what being sucked would feel like. He had never imagined it would be _that_ good. And he definitely didn't think the powerful, dominant man would do that for him. He groaned and writhed helplessly as Derek sucked greedily on his cock.

_The fucking Pack Lord is sucking me. I can't even...._

"So good," he panted.

The sensations rippled across his nerves. Stiles knew there was no way he could ever hope to last, not with the way Derek was going at it. But just when it seemed like he would come, Derek pulled off and moved down to lick his balls. That was an entirely new and incredibly delicious feeling.

Stiles took careful note for tricks to use the next time he got his lips on the Alpha's cock.

Derek's wicked tongue moved up to play evil games with Stiles' nipples. He was already in such a state that the discovery of another erogenous zone nearly made him climax, but he held on, pleading softly with Derek for more.

When Derek went back to sucking him, Stiles' felt his toes curl. There was just no way to hold back anymore so he stopped trying. He panted and gasped as his cock shot forth spasm after spasm of come, all of which Derek caught in his mouth and swallowed down.

"Been itching to do that since we met," Derek admitted.

Stiles blushed and looked at the Alpha through his lashes. "I.... I wasn't thinking you would...."

Derek licked his lips. "I told you, I like to be sure my partner has fun too."

Stiles shivered a little. "If anyone ever finds out how sweet you can be, your reputation will be utterly ruined."

Derek's eyes lit up. "I'm not as altruistic as all that. This is a special night. But sometimes I'm just going to throw you down and fuck you. And I can do that, because you're mine. All mine."

Stiles gulped, his dick twitching in an attempt to rally. "Y-Yes, Master."

Derek flashed his teeth. "Good boy."

He retrieved a vial and scooped something viscous out of it. Stiles eyed the movements with a mix of excitement and nervousness. The confidence in Derek's eyes put him at ease, though. His master, the Alpha, the man who had taken ownership of him was about to claim his full rights. And Stiles knew with complete certainty that it was going to be amazing.

"This will hurt at first. I won't lie. But I think you will enjoy it."

Stiles nodded, smiling a shy little smile. "I'm ready, Derek."

"Well.... Very nearly...."

He placed Stiles' ankles on his broad shoulders and moved his slick fingers to Stiles virgin ass. It was a strange sensation, and a little unpleasant, having fingers moving into him. Stiles wasn't sure the reason for it, but he trusted Derek. Against all sense, he had complete faith in the Alpha, even with the warning of impending pain.

And he wasn't lying. After the fingers withdrew, Derek moved into position and Stiles felt the soft head moving into him, and then the thick, rigid cock of the man breached him and there was a very uncomfortable burn. Stiles squeaked a little, his eyes widening.

_I can take it. I can take it. Fuck, he's big._

To distract him from the hurt, Derek leaned in and kissed him deeply. Stiles responded instantly, hungrily welcoming the kiss to distract him from the invasion happening. Inch after rigid inch slid into him, opening him, filling him. Stiles warbled out a moan, overcome with the feeling of Derek pushing in all the way to the hilt.

"My sexy boy," Derek breathed into his ear.

"Yours," Stiles whined out. Tears pricked his eyes, but he ignored them. "Split in two, but yours."

Derek laughed softly. "Not quite." He licked Stiles' earlobe. "Just full of your master's cock like the good little sex slave you are."

Stiles shivered all over, silently acknowledging how much he liked knowing he was owned. Derek stayed still for a while, kissing and nuzzling sweetly at him while the burning sensation slowly ebbed. Stiles caressed the man's back with genuine affection, so very grateful for the man's compassion and patience.

When Derek did move, it set off small explosions in Stiles' head as _something_ inside him reacted to the glide and jab of that magnificent cock. His eyes widened and surprised yelps of pleasure escaped him. He hadn't thought there would be anything for him in the act of getting fucked. Even though Danny had assured him it was good, he had never imagined it could be.

But Stiles very quickly decided that getting fucked was in fact far beyond good.

Derek kept to his promise and pounded him mercilessly, driving in and out of him at a pummeling pace. Stiles helplessly cried out in ecstasy. There was nothing else he could do, bound and impaled as he was. Derek had him, Derek was in control and all Stiles could do was bask in the feel of such a powerful man taking him.

It was a long and glorious night for Stiles. Derek fucked him over and over again, wringing one mind-rending orgasm out of him after another. He took Stiles on his back, on all fours and even on his lap once. The man had no end of stamina and by the time it was over, Stiles was a quivering puddle of intensely satisfied slave.

Curled up with Derek, feeling battered and bruised and well-fucked, Stiles could only smile stupidly to himself as they drifted towards sleep. He didn't feel like a slave. He didn't feel trapped. He felt satisfied and happy and that let him drift off into a very contented sleep.


	8. Unwanted Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott wakes up. Things deteriorate quickly.

Scott woke very slowly. He'd been having the strangest dreams, though now as he woke they slipped from his memory. Something about chasing or hunting or perhaps fleeing? He didn't know. It had all been very exciting, that much he was sure.

He blinked his eyes open and realized he didn't know where he was. It certainly wasn't the hideout. He started to sit up, looking around wildly as fragments of memories came back to him. Sneaking into the Citadel. An assassin's knife. Claws in his flesh....

"Whoa, easy there."

Scott managed to focus on Stiles' familiar face. His friend was smiling and looking very relieved. He gently but firmly pushed Scott back down to the bed. Scott went, but only because he was still very groggy.

"Stiles...?"

"Just relax. You got hurt. You're all right. I'll explain everything in a second," Stiles said.

A dark skinned man came in. He wore long, deep green robes and a silver torque around his neck. He came over to the bed with an amiable smile and took Scott's chin in his fingers. "Nice to have you back with us, Scott," the man said. He tilted Scott's head back and forth, looking into his eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Confused...."

The man smiled in a friendly way. "I can imagine. Your friend here will explain things. I would like you to stay in bed for now. Will you do that for me?"

"Who are you?"

"Apologies. I'm Deaton of the Hills. I've been overseeing your, well, recovery."

"Um.... Thank you...." He glanced sideways at Stiles and then back at the man. "I'm all right? I thought I was going to die...."

"You came about as close as any man ever has. But you're strong."

Scott swallowed against a dry throat. "Thank you."

Deaton backed up a step. "I'll leave you two to talk. The Pack Lord will be along later."

"Pack Lord?" Scott rasped at Stiles as the healer exited the room.

Stiles got him a cup of water, which Scott drank down greedily. "Stuff's happened."

"It seems so," Scott murmured. "What have you gotten us into now?" He blinked as he registered a total impossibility. "Stiles.... You're wearing a collar."

"I know." Stiles actually blushed. "We got caught."

Scott reached up to his own neck, but felt no leather collar. "What happened?"

"Well, you went off to be a hero, because you're you. Nearly got killed. Derek saved you by, well, by turning you into a werewolf."

Scott's eyes flew wide. "What?"

"Yeah, I know. He didn't have a choice though and he only did it because you saved his life."

"But.... I'm a werewolf?"

"Yes." Stiles got him another cup of water. "You're part of the Evil Fascist Overlords Club."

"Stiles.... I'm not...."

Stiles smiled faintly and held up his hands for peace. "I'm joking. I'm more or less over my rebellious ideas."

"You are?" Scott blinked. "What did they do to you?"

Stiles blushed again and chuckled. "Um.... Well.... I've sort of been, well, taken in by Derek."

"Derek?" Scott gaped at him. "The Pack Lord?"

Stiles nodded. "That Derek, yes."

Scott wondered if he really had woken up or if this was another dream, albeit a much stranger one. Stiles a slave? And not looking for the nearest escape route? Him, a werewolf? It wasn't possible. This had to be one of Stiles' pranks.

"All right.... Funny. Now what's really going on? How did we get away?"

Stiles' smile faded a little. "We didn't, Scott. Like you always said would happen, we pushed our luck too far and that was it. I'm just so relieved you didn't die. I couldn't have handled that."

Scott's eyes narrowed. "Stiles, I mean it, stop joking around."

"I'm not, Scott. I got us caught." Stiles tugged on his collar. "This is real."

Scott shook his head, not willing to believe it. "How...? I mean, what do we do now? How do we get out of this?"

"Well, we don't."

Scott stared at him. Stiles always had a plan. They were often terrible plans, but they were plans nonetheless. Another trick, another turn, some way to improve their odds so they could go back to their hideout in the forest and enjoy the spoils of their adventures. Stiles couldn't possibly be telling him that it was all over.

Could he?

"I don't _want_ to be a werewolf."

"Well, I'd rather you be a werewolf than be dead."

Scott frowned at him. "If I am, I can probably break us out. We could be gone before they even knew we were missing."

Stiles sniffled, which was alarming because Stiles was almost never sad. "I'm afraid not, my friend. No more daring escapes for us. You need to stay here, learn to be a good wolf overlord. And, well, I'm all right where I am."

"You're all right being a slave? Did they drug you?"

Stiles snickered. "Um.... No. Oh, hey, in other news, I'm no longer a virgin. Like, at all."

Scott blinked a few times. "Huh?"

"I got my ass pounded right and proper." Stiles gave him a lopsided smile. "It was so fucking good, I can't even tell you."

Scott blinked some more. "What...?"

Stiles shrugged one shoulder. "I belong to Derek now."

Scott felt dizzy, which was strange since he was laying down. "What did he do to you?"

"Oh, just about every wonderful thing you can imagine. Also, I've found being the fuck toy of the Pack Lord has its own status. And he's pretty nice to me, for no reason I can fathom."

"Fuck toy?" Scott sat up again. "Did he force you to—"

"No! Relax. It's fine. He gave me as much choice as he could and it's fine. Sort of, well, sort of nice really. Weird. Messy, too...."

"Stiles...."

"Scott, it's all right. I swear. I'm not being threatened or hurt." He looked away. "I like him, is what it comes down to. I don't really want to leave."

Scott nodded vaguely, taking the words in but sensing there was something wrong with them. "Then why are you so sad?"

Stiles looked upwards in that way he had when he was trying to not show Scott what he was feeling. "Because this is it for us. And I'm going to miss our adventures."

"We can still have adventures, Stiles."

"No, we can't."

Scott felt a flutter of panic. "We're still friends, Stiles. Brothers forever, remember?"

And then Scott saw Stiles cheeks grow wet. "Can't do it, Scott." Stiles still wouldn't look at him. "I'm a slave now, Derek's property. Which, as I said, comes with lots of sex so that's all right. But you're a werewolf now, part of the ruling class. Derek is going to start training you soon, real soon. You won't have time for me. And then you'll have duties and you really won't have time for me."

Scott shook his head adamantly. "I don't accept that."

"Well.... Too bad." Stiles wiped his eyes and gave Scott a stern look. "You're going to be an awesome fucking werewolf. You're going to be better than the pompous jerks who strut around like they're so superior. You're going to show them all.... And I'm going to love knowing you're out there, doing that. But...."

"No, Stiles...."

"Yes, Scott, this is sort of goodbye, more or less. I don't want us to just drift apart as you find new friends in your pack and have less and less time to see me until you feel guilty that you _don't_ spend time with me and then I'm just one of those slaves you see around the Citadel and feel guilty that you don't have anything to say to. I want it to be clean and quick."

Scott struggled to get out of bed. "Fuck that. Fuck all of this. Deaton! Deaton get in here! Unwolf me right fucking now! I want to be a slave, right alongside my friend. Deaton!"

Stiles fought against him, but Scott was now too strong. He pushed Stiles backwards and his friend fell back into his chair, which then tipped backwards and spilled his friend onto the floor. Scott stared in shock and horror at what he had done with the merest flexing of his new strength.

Stiles' smile was both forgiving and understanding. "See? We're not the same anymore."

"Is that why? Do you hate me now because I'm a werewolf?"

"No! Fuck no, Scott. I would never hate you. Not ever. I'm trying to explain to you the reality of the situation. I've been thinking about it a lot and, well, this is the only thing I can think to do. I don't like it. But it is what it is."

Scott eased off the bed and got down onto the floor. Gently and carefully, as he didn't know the limits of his strength now, he gripped the back of Stiles' neck in his hand and pressed their foreheads together.

"You're an idiot. I love you, but you're an idiot. Brothers forever," Scott told him. "Nothing changes that. You hear?"

Stiles cut him to the quick with a single, disbelieving look. "Yeah...."

He was about to say something else when Lord Derek walked in. Scott threw the big man a baleful look and stood. His anger was all that allowed him the strength to stay on his feet, and even still his muscles trembled with the effort.

"You fucking bastard."

Lord Derek blinked at him and then looked at Stiles. "What did you tell him?"

"Don't you threaten him," Scott snapped.

"I wasn't threatening anyone."

"Scott, it's all right." Stiles got to his feet and moved over to Derek. Scott gaped in wonder as the Alpha put his arm around the younger man, as if Stiles really did belong to him, which was not even the case no matter how many collars he put on Stiles. Scott and he had been through too much together. Stiles belonged to _him_ and he to Stiles.

"I told you, he's way nicer than I expected."

Scott shook his head stubbornly. "Change me back."

"Pardon?" Lord Derek asked.

"I don't want to be a werewolf." Scott didn't care that he had tears in his eyes."If Stiles has to be a slave, then so do I. I don't want to drift apart."

Derek frowned at him and then looked down at Stiles, who looked guilty. "Um.... I may have given him the idea that we can't really be friends anymore."

Derek winced. "Well.... I see...."

"Change. Me. _Back._ " He felt tears tracking down his face but he ignored them. "Now!"

Lord Derek drew himself up, his eyes glittering. "First of all, you do not _ever_ give your Alpha an order. Secondly, there is no way to change you back. Third, there isn't any reason you two can't remain friends. It will be difficult, maybe too difficult in the end, but no law or tradition forbids it."

Scott had the strangest urge to attack the man. He wasn't violent by nature, but this man had turned his entire life inside out. And he didn't seem to even care. Even as he started to bunch his muscles for what he knew was a doomed lunge, spots started to form in his vision and he felt his strength dissolve.

Derek was there, so suddenly Scott hadn't even seen him move. He took Scott into his arms and held him for a moment, ignoring the Beta's fitful struggles. Finally, exhausted and emotionally wrung out, Scott just sagged in his Alpha's arms.

The Pack Lord picked him up and put him back in his bed. His eyes were oddly gentle, which confused Scott. "Deaton tells me you'll be up and around tomorrow. We'll start your training then."

"What if I don't want to?" Scott asked in a sullen tone.

"Then we'll do it anyway."

Scott narrowed his eyes. "I won't let you turn me into a killer."

Derek sighed. "There is a lot more to being a werewolf than killing."

Scott folded his arms across his chest. "You had no right to do this to me."

"Actually, I do. And I'm sorry that you're upset and I know that this is a shock, but you need to learn to deal with what's in front of you."

Scott looked away. "I think I'd like for you to go away now."

Derek eyed him steadily for a long moment, studying him for some reason. His expression had a strange, curious cast to it. Scott gave him a sullen glower and then pointedly looked away. He didn't know what the Pack Lord was thinking and he didn't care. All he knew was that the life he had been enjoying had come to an abrupt and unsolicited end.


End file.
